


Center of the Sun

by Anonymous



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Praise Kink, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 17:45:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Yut-Lung and Shorter spend the night together, and Shorter discovers just how affection-starved Yut-Lung really is.





	Center of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place at the end of banana fish (except shorter is alive, obviously), so yut-lung is 18 and shorter is 19-20. fic title and end lyrics are taken from 'center of the sun' by conjure one

Their relationship is a spring blossom - something new, something delicate and precious that must be protected, nurtured.  Shorter knows everything about this is new for Yut-Lung; the sheer concept of friendship, let alone a consensual relationship, is charting new territory.  They go slowly, take their time in a world where danger bleeds from every corner, where the next day is never guaranteed.

Even with their own mortality hovering over his head, Shorter never pushes, never rushes Yut-Lung into anything he’s not ready for.  He knows better than that.

And so Shorter gives him the space he needs, encourages him to have the agency he has never seemed to have in his life before, which Yut-Lung approaches like he does everything else: curious caution, gaining confidence over the time.  It’s good, it’s sweet - an arm around Yut-Lung’s waist, tucking him in close; Yut-Lung crawling into his arms at night after a long day of doing business, nuzzling under Shorter’s chin; those endless evenings where they just sit quietly, pressed against each other, watching the sun’s descent and the moon’s rise.

Sometimes he’ll laugh over something stupid Yut-Lung said, and Shorter will turn and see Yut-Lung just staring at him, so open and earnest and awed, like Shorter hung the stars in the sky himself - and what else can Shorter do but pull him in for a kiss, spell out his adoration with his lips and tongue?

What they have?  It’s something _good_ , better than what Shorter has ever had before, and the thought is as terrifying as it is wonderful.  He doesn’t want to ruin this, can’t even fathom being the cause of any more of Yut-Lung’s pain, and so he happily goes with the flow and lets Yut-Lung call the shots on how their relationship progresses.

Things come to a head when they’re kissing in Shorter’s room one night, slow, slick and deep.  Yut-Lung’s on his tiptoes with his arms around Shorter’s neck, keeping him close as he parts his lips, allows Shorter’s tongue inside with a grateful sigh.  Shorter places one hand on Yut-Lung’s hip, fingers brushing the edge of Yut-Lung’s soft cream sweater, and then higher, trailing along the sliver of skin revealed by Yut-Lung’s stretching -

and Yut-Lung freezes, arms stiff weights around Shorter’s shoulders, and _fuck, I fucked up didn’t I?_

Pulling back, he quickly removes his hand from Yut-Lung’s side, guilt pounding in his chest when he sees the startled look on his face.

“Sorry, that was too far, wasn’t it?” Shorter asks, nervously running his hand through his mohawk.

Yut-Lung opens his mouth, but he says nothing at first, all words caught in his throat.  Shorter is about to launch into a second round of apologies to try to soothe over any wounds when Yut-Lung finds his voice.

“No, it was just - different.”

Shorter blinks, not quite expecting such a subdued reaction. “Oh. Good different?”

Humming, Yut-Lung tilts his head, worries his bottom lip in thought. “Try again and let’s see.”

Though Yut-Lung sounds honest, this feels like a test, one Shorter isn’t sure if he should even attempt.  But Yut-Lung is looking up at him, that same open trust he always wears for Shorter ( _everyone else has hurt me but I trust you_ , that look says, and God he never wants to let him down or make him regret giving him his trust), so Shorter hesitantly takes a step closer, lifts his hand again.  He keeps all movements slow and easy to track, allowing Yut-Lung the time to follow them and reject them if necessary, and carefully presses his hand back on Yut-Lung’s hip.  Yut-Lung is still, but Shorter can see him swallow, can see his pulse quicken in his throat when he shuffles his hand higher and lightly caresses the exposed skin with his finger pads.  

The effect is immediate: Yut-Lung gasps like he’s been punched, a hand flying up to his mouth too late to stifle the desperate sound.  Shorter pauses, jaw tensing as he waits for further direction.

Only now does he realize that, since they started this _thing_ a few weeks ago, he has yet to touch Yut-Lung’s skin anywhere else but his face.  

_Oh. Holy shit._

“Can I keep going?” Shorter murmurs, barely aware of the words slipping past his lips, too mesmerized by Yut-Lung’s reaction and this newfound realization.

The hand covering his mouth drops a few inches before Yut-Lung places it on Shorter’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze; Shorter’s not sure which of them he’s trying to reassure.

“Yes, just. Take it slow,” Yut-Lung says, and fuck, how does he already sound so breathless at just the lightest of petting?

“Slow,” Shorter confirms, relaxing when he sees some of the tension ease from Yut-Lung’s shoulders.

He runs his finger-pads across the few inches of skin, again and again in soft, featherlight sweeping motions, and Yut-Lung starts breathing _harder,_ slim frame quaking with each unsteady exhale.  Shorter’s plenty content to stay like this, petting that porcelain skin and drinking in the little mewls that Yut-Lung can’t bite back, but then Yut-Lung’s grabbing his wrist with his free hand, gently urges Shorter’s hand _higher_.  Never looking away from Yut-Lung’s face, Shorter complies, slowly drifting his hand higher until he can splay his fingers across Yut-Lung’s right side.

Just like before, the reaction is immediate, a jolt of lightning - Yut-Lung _moans_ this time, head tilting back and eyelashes fluttering as his whole body shakes and arches into the touch.  Mouth dry from the sight, Shorter experimentally runs his hand up and down Yut-Lung’s side, cataloguing every little change in his expression, every pleasured little sound that’s cried out to the ceiling and heavens. He’s beautiful like this, allowing himself to enjoy something he’s been deprived for oh so long.

“‘’s that good, baby?” Shorter asks, tone all gravel and desire, and sometimes Yut-Lung will smack him and deny that he likes the little pet names Shorter gives him, but he must be too far gone to refute it now, moaning more, deep in his throat.

“ _Yes_ , it’s -” Yut-Lung cuts off there, head twisting to the side, hiding his face.

He’s withdrawing into himself.  But Shorter is a patient man, has learned how to help coax him out of his shell.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it,” he reassures, voice slow and steady,  _take it slow._

That has Yut-Lung snapping back, eyes seeking out Shorter’s in the dim lighting of his room, and Shorter can see the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, can see the pain and rage that Yut-Lung lives and breathes starting to bleed to the surface.

“You don’t understand, Shorter.  It’s - I’ve never had -”

He cuts off there, a lone tear spilling down his cheek, which he roughly wipes away with the back of his hand like a dejected child trying to act tough.

Keeping his hand still, Shorter allows a few seconds to pass, gathering his thoughts. “Yut-Lung… When was the last time someone touched you like this? Or even on the shoulder or something?”

Yut-Lung’s eyes narrow a fraction, nose wrinkling as he clearly tries to rack his brain, and God, Shorter hates how long it takes him to come up with an answer.

“About a year ago, I think.  There were these men -”

“Not them,” Shorter interjects, voice flatter than he intended.  Just the thought of those decrepit, sick fossils placing their hands on Yut-Lung was enough to make him see red. “I mean by someone you like.  Something you wanted.”

Yut-Lung’s expression ices over, face draining of blood as he stares off behind Shorter’s shoulder.  He shakes his head again, the words he murmurs barely audible, the same kind of stupor he gets into whenever he thinks too hard about his past - those nights he wakes up screaming, calling for a mother long since gone.

“I. I don’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Look at me, Yut-Lung,” Shorter says, a gentle firmness that Yut-Lung immediately responds to, turning those wide violet eyes to Shorter’s. “It’s okay. This? This is about what you want.  We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Tears fill Yut-Lung’s eyes again, and Shorter thinks he made a mistake, but then Yut-Lung is crowding closer, voice quiet, “You don’t understand - “

“I know -”

“No,” Yut-Lung says, interrupting this time. “You don’t understand.  All I’ve wanted - ”

There’s a plea in his eyes, one so achingly raw that Shorter almost has to look away.

“Please,” Yut-Lung murmurs. “Touch me.”

Another tear dribbles down his cheek, and Shorter wipes it away with his thumb, cradles Yut-Lung’s face in his hand and leans down to capture his lips in a kiss.  Yut-Lung comes to life beneath him, surging up into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Shorter again as he pushes himself further into Shorter’s space. Hand still underneath Yut-Lung’s sweater, he trails his fingers down Yut-Lung’s side, swallowing the soft gasps Yut-Lung moans into his mouth.  By the time he moves to Yut-Lung’s chest, thumbing one of his nipples, Yut-Lung all but _shouts_ , something ragged and wanting and elated.

“Fuck,” Shorter murmurs against Yut-Lung’s lips, pulling him in for another one-two-three kisses. “You’re so beautiful.”

Even the smallest shred of praise has Yut-Lung mewling again, small and wanton.  Shorter keeps stroking the expanse of Yut-Lung’s skin, mapping it without seeing it, wanting to memorize every little spot that has Yut-Lung gasping and panting so hard, like he’s been running for miles.

Yut-Lung leans in, sloppily presses his lips to Shorter’s cheek, panting warm breath against his skin. “More.”

 _Oh._ He’s dizzy with arousal, been hard since Yut-Lung started writhing and moaning in his arms, and his head spins at the thought of _more_.  It’s hard to think properly with all of his blood rushing south, but the hungry demand in Yut-Lung’s eyes requires an answer, and so he lowers his hand, gently yanks on the bottom of his sweater.

“Can I take this off?”

There’s only a moment’s hesitation before Yut-Lung swallows and nods, carefully lifting his arms.  Shorter follows Yut-Lung’s lead, carefully lifting the sweater and tugging it over his shoulders (Shorter knows this sweater costs a fortune and Yut-Lung will murder him if there’s a single stitch ripped) and off.  Shorter means to place the sweater aside, but he’s frozen in place, can’t stop _staring_.  Yut-Lung is slim, nearly feminine in his build, but solid at the same time, the flecks of scar tissue on his chest glinting in the moonlight; the body of a _survivor_ , one who trusts Shorter and only Shorter with this.

Shorter doesn’t think he’s ever loved him more.

He breaks from his stupor and places the sweater on a nearby chair, and then Yut-Lung’s tugging him backward, to Shorter’s bed, and all Shorter can do is stumble along and blink in surprise at this newfound forwardness.  Yut-Lung falls gracefully onto the bed, landing in the plush pillows (the ones he demanded Shorter have if they were going to share a bed), inky hair fanning out beneath him. _Beautiful_ , Shorter thinks dumbly, on his knees in front of Yut-Lung’s sprawled out body, a servant ready to worship his god.

Yut-Lung points at Shorter with a flourish of his hand. “Yours too.  Off.”

He can’t help but laugh, and the sight of Yut-Lung smiling this pleased little smile only makes him grin himself. “Yes, Sir.”

He makes quick work of his jacket and undershirt, tossing them to the floor in a way Yut-Lung would kill him for if it was Yut-Lung’s own clothes being so carelessly discarded.  It’s Yut-Lung’s turn to outright gawk, a flush to his cheeks as he takes in the sight, and Shorter can’t help but to preen under the attention.

“Like what you see?” he laughs, all playful smugness.

Yut-Lung purrs like a content cat, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear. “Very handsome.”

 _That_ has Shorter feeling flush himself, and he’s quick to divert attention away from himself by placing both hands on Yut-Lung’s chest, smiling at the way Yut-Lung gasps, lips parted and eyes hooded.  Now that he can see what he’s working with, Shorter takes his time caressing and stroking every inch of exposed skin, paying extra care around the scar marks, as if he can erase them with just soft swipes of his fingers.  Beneath him, Yut-Lung is a livewire: gasping and groaning, twisting in bed and fisting the sheets in his fists, expression etched in ecstasy. Seeing Yut-Lung let go and allow himself to simply _feel_ is divine, a rapidly growing intoxication that Shorter can get addicted to, he thinks.  

Carefully, oh so slowly, Shorter adjusts his position, using his arms to prop himself up as he lowers himself down atop Yut-Lung.

The second their chests brush, Yut-Lung howls like he’s in pain, like even this simple contact has burned him.  Shorter’s about to pull up, but Yut-Lung wraps his arms around his shoulders, gently brings him down until they’re flush together.  This is a slice of heaven in and of itself, the feel of their skin sliding together, the mewling huffs of breath Yut-Lung pants against the side of his head.  Shorter wants to move, wants to grind his hips down and let Yut-Lung feel how much he’s affected by this, but _take it slow, take it slow._

“This is all I wanted,” Yut-Lung babbles, sniffs, arms tightening around Shorter’s back.

“Hm?”

Yut-Lung’s hands move now, kneading the strong muscle in Shorter’s back and shoulders appreciatively, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“This. You,” Yut-Lung whispers, voice so quiet, as if the walls themselves might be listening to him share this coveted secret.

Sorrow tugs at Shorter’s soul at the admission.  He’s always just wanted someone to love, someone to touch him tenderly and love him back.   _Oh, Yut-Lung._

Protective desire pools low in Shorter’s belly as he presses a kiss to Yut-Lung’s forehead, his cheek, down to his neck - and that really has Yut-Lung squirming, hips unconsciously rising, and _ah_ , he’s just as hard as Shorter.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Shorter reminds him, licks a stripe up his pulse. “Just this is perfect.”

Shivering, Yut-Lung clutches Shorter tighter, tucks his face into Shorter’s neck the way he does when he wants to hide.

“I do. But.”

He nuzzles closer, and Shorter can feel the wetness of old tears upon his cheeks.

“...I’m already close,” he mumbles, words all slurred together that Shorter almost can’t interpret them.

Shorter can’t help himself - he bites his lip to hide his smile because _oh my God, this is really gonna do it for you, huh?_

“Okay,” Shorter says, careful and deliberate. “Do you want to - uh.”

Yut-Lung unburies himself, settling back into the pillows and looking at Shorter with a resolute determination (and more than a hint of desperation) on his face.

“I want you to.”

He takes one of Shorter’s hands, presses his lips to the knuckles, then slowly, slowly trails Shorter’s hand down his side, biting back whimpers all the while.  Shorter pauses once he reaches Yut-Lung’s hip, looking him in the eye.  
  
“You’re sure?”

“Shorter,” Yut-Lung all but spits, impatient and dripping in desire, “ _touch me_.”

And okay, yeah, he doesn’t need to be told twice.  Keeping his eyes on Yut-Lung, he drops his hand lower, thumbing along the edge of his pants before dipping his hand inside.  The moment he takes Yut-Lung’s cock in hand, Yut-Lung _screams_ , body arching off the bed in a fit of newly discovered pleasure.  All it takes his a few jerks and a twist to the wet head, and Yut-Lung is spilling over his fist with a long, ragged cry that Shorter is certain half the neighborhood must have heard.

Withdrawing his sticky hand, Shorter presses kisses and reassurances up Yut-Lung’s chest and to his cheeks, _so good, you were so perfect for me_.  He stays until Yut-Lung’s shaking has mostly subsided, a stray tear trickling down his cheek as he comes to again.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were close,” Shorter says, his smile impish.

That brings Yut-Lung back down to Earth, face reddening as he huffs and turns his head to the side, away from Shorter. “Shut up!”

“It’s cute, babe -”

“Stop talking before I kick you out of your own damn room!”

Shorter laughs, leans in to nuzzle the side of Yut-Lung’s head and kiss his ear in apology.

“Okay, okay. Let me clean you up.”

Yut-Lung eyes him suspiciously, but lets Shorter get up and fetch a washcloth without a word.  He’s gentle, tugging Yut-Lung’s pants down just enough to wipe away the remaining fluid, studiously ignoring the sight of his cock and the fact that his own is still aching in his pants.  Yut-Lung must notice, as he gently taps Shorter on the thigh with his foot after he’s cleaned up.

“Do you - should I…?”

There’s hesitation in Yut-Lung’s tone, and Shorter immediately shakes his head. “Nah, I’mma shower anyways.  You get some rest. Leave me some covers, okay?”

Burrowing into the sheets, Yut-Lung manages a sleepy smile and hum. “Don’t count on it.”

Shorter kisses him, long and sweet, and runs his hand through the soft, inky black tresses of his hair.

\---

By the time Shorter returns, Yut-Lung is fast asleep, cocooned in a ball of all the blankets.

Shorter shakes his head with a hint of a hint of a smile and carefully climbs into bed next him, presses a kiss to his hair.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

 _I look into your eyes_  
_I am at the center of the sun_  
_And I cannot be hurt_  
_By anything this wicked world has done_


End file.
